Castle of a Thousand Flowers
by ChilaliSnowbird
Summary: A search and rescue operation from a vampire's castle seems like routine; but when his Noble employer wants to tag along, the vampire hunter is less than thrilled.
1. Chapter 1

_After a several months' long dry spell in terms of writing my own material I decided to write a VHD fanfic as an excercise to get my creative juices flowing again. Reviews are greatly appreciated. Also, I've noticed that in two specific places in this chapter, FF keeps cutting a few words out. If the 'creative juices' sentence above looks weird in this upload, that's one of them. Don't hurt me._

_Summary: A search and rescue operation from a vampire's castle seems like routine; but when his Noble employer wants to tag along, the vampire hunter is less than thrilled. Rated M for mature language but no adult scenes -- sowwy, different cup of tea here. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own D. I do own any other named character appearing in the story. If I owned D I'd get rich hiring him out to the fangirls._

* * * *

The patrons fell silent as the stranger entered the smoky taproom. He was nearly seven feet tall, with a large crescent sword strapped to his back and dressed entirely in black. The rowdy farm boys shut up as he walked towards the counter silently; even Molly, who was a friend to all men in more ways than one, fell quiet as he brushed past, the long black cape and wide-brimmed hat obscuring his pale features. When he reached the counter he gave no indication that he noticed the effect he had on the otherwise noisy villagers.

"I require lodging for myself and for my horse." His voice was a quiet tenor, by no means threatening. Everyone listened intently.

Mistress Dot tilted her head to get a better look up under the hat. "I've got beds and I've got a stable, but I ain't got the kind of food your kind sometimes wants," she replied. "Reckon I can get you a steak not too well done, though."

"That'll do." The stranger dropped a few coins and the mistress swept them into the drawer under the counter.

"Molly'll show you upstairs, then." Dot turned and stared hard at the shadow that concealed the stranger's features. "No funny stuff, though. If anything happens - "

"Nothing will happen."

The girl named Molly, somewhat plain in appearance but nonetheless quite popular amongst at least the men of the villagers, sidled over and gestured towards the stairs at the back of the room. "This way, sir."

"Thank you."

The silence lingered a moment after the tall stranger and the girl's footfalls ascended up the stairs and took them out of sight. Eventually Mistress Dot turned to eye her patrons. "That's enough gawking, boys. Go back to your drinking."

"Yes, Mistress Dot," the nearest farmer grinned and held out his glass for a refill. The taproom filled with the usual noise and laughter, swirling smoke and the occasional drunken snore, interspersed with occasional speculations; was that really? No kidding? Think there's gonna be trouble?

* * * *

Night fell, blanketing the village in dark velvet pierced by the lights streaming out from windows, sometimes flickering as people moved about inside the dwellings. The occasional blue shimmer of the force fields that surrounded the village and kept it safe from the wilderness outside the perimeter created strange patterns of light that were utterly ignored by the distant stars above. A few voices and the occasional peal of laughter from a child drifted about and a few cattle mooed, voicing displeasure with a farm maid being tardy with the milking pail.

The force fields at the town perimeter flickered again as they closed behind a lone rider on a chestnut horse. A farmer thumbed his hat in acknowledgement as the newcomer steered the horse towards the town square at the inn, gaining a nod in response. The rider dismounted and left his horse standing, not bothering to tie it to the post by the water trough, walking with a confident air as he entered the taproom.

Once again there was silence, and then, grudgingly, nods of acknowledgement from the patrons who were still present. Those who were residents of the village had gone home by now, but those from more outlying farmstead and a few who were just passing through remained. The latter few stared; two of them decided that they preferred the road to the inn after all.

He was tall, if not as tall as the other stranger, the dark one. Nor was he shrouded all in black, instead donning a dove grey silk coat that covered most of his figure yet left his features clearly visible over a white neck tie. His hair fell in loose auburn locks to his shoulders, half-concealing pointed ears, and his otherwise quite handsome eyes were the colour of blood. He appeared unarmed but for a riding crop carried casually in one hand, twirling it as he strode up to the counter.

"Your Lordship," Mistress Dot said cautiously. "How can we be of service?"

The Noble glanced about; the patrons found interesting things to stare at in their glasses and plates. "I have come to see the hunter," he replied. "I do not see him here, though."

Mistress Dot nodded. "He keeps to his room. Molly, go and tell the hunter he has a visitor."

The girl slunk towards the staircase, clearly hesitant. "Go on," the vampire encouraged her. "I do not have all night, my dear."

Several men left quietly in the silence that followed the girl's disappearance. A few remained, too curious to consider their own safety. Mistress Dot's frown was unmistakeable; clearly the inn owner would preferred for such guests as these to meet somewhere else where she would not have to pay for repairs.

The vampire lord made himself comfortable on a chair in front of the tap room's fireplace, stretching long legs to reveal riding boots that were slightly dusty from the road outside. He brushed a hand over his coat, removing a minuscule speck of dirt, and sheathed the riding crop in one boot, seemingly oblivious to the way the atmosphere of the otherwise cosy room dropped well below freezing as Molly reappeared on the staircase, accompanied by the tall, dark form of the vampire hunter. Silent even as Molly slipped past him to the relative safety of having the counter between both men and herself, the tall stranger did not draw his sword, nor did his hands wander to check the pouches on his belt, and he did not look around to assess the situation and look for possible escape routes. He simply stood.

The Noble offered him an appraising glance, then gestured with one hand towards the chair opposite of his own. "You are the hunter they call D?"

The hunter nodded.

"Dhampir, vampire hunter, solitary, and indeed, the dark and silent type," the vampire mused. "I have heard quite a bit about you. I have looked forwards to meeting you. Do you know who I am?"

The hunter said nothing.

A frown flashed across the Noble's pleasant features. "Ah, yes. It's all so clear to you, isn't it? You're simply waiting for me to attack. Aren't I supposed to make a speech first? Do I get to boast and berate you for turning on your own kind before I die? Shall we have Molly play the damsel in distress or can we make do without for the occasion?" He chuckled. "I've not come to fight you, D. I've come to hire you."

Molly dropped a glass at hearing her own name. The girl's expression was not one of someone who was eager to get closer to either man.

The hunter took a single step forwards. "I'm not interested."

"Might want to hear His Lordship out," Mistress Dot murmured from behind the counter.

The Noble's pale lips twitched into a small smile. "She keeps a crossbow under that counter, each bolt edged with a cross. Just in case." He turned his crimson eyes on the hunter's dark form again. "You're a vampire hunter. You kill vampires and people pay you to do exactly that. Well, I happen to have a vampire I want killed, and the money to pay you, hunter. Are you going to refuse because I am a Noble myself?"

"Yes."

"He's not from these parts," Mistress Dot murmured, falling silent at a reproving, crimson glance.

The vampire drew the riding crop from his boot and tapped it against his palm in a gesture of impatience. "Did you kill Meier Link?"

"No."

"But you did dispose of the Bloody Countess." The vampire smiled. "If you can do that, then the task I have in mind is menial. Quite classic. Missing girl, sealed castle, your typical search and rescue operation. The only unusual bit being, of course, that I intend to go with you."

The room temperature dropped another few degrees.

He stood and looked straight at the hunter, casual demeanour fading. "This village is part of my domain, hunter. Take a good look at it. It is peaceful. Well defended. You were not turned out or refused service in spite of your – unusual appearance." He glanced at the few patrons who were still trying to will themselves invisible. "These men are afraid. Not of me, but of you."

The dark figure's cloak rustled slightly as the dhampir looked the men over. Then he nodded.

The Noble dipped into a pocket and produced a topographic map. The name of the region was printed neatly at the top but even without that it was easily recognisable. He tapped it with the tip of the riding crop. "This is Castle Millefleur. In spite of the pretty name it is not very... hospitable. You'll want to avoid the surrounding villages. The villagers are not going to ask before shooting when they catch a glimpse of your dark, silent, and cheerful self." He smiled. "Unless you are not the man your reputation claims you to be you are going to do so anyway. I, however, prefer not being shot at, so I will meet you here," he tapped the map again, "at the river fork. You can keep the map."

The hunter made no reply.

The vampire lord smirked, then inclined his head to Mistress Dot. "Do have a pleasant evening, dear."

"You too, my lord," the inn keeper mumbled as the Noble strode out without waiting for a reply from the silent hunter, and with seemingly no concern about possibly having a seven foot crescent sword run through him from behind.

* * * *

The ethereal, cold beauty of the vampire hunter often drew women to desire him and men to curse the fact that they were not women. Like moths to a flame there would always be one or two who felt brave enough, or suicidal enough, to test his resolve, turning up when he was alone to try to strike up a conversation or make a proposition. The hunter showed no sign of surprise when Molly slipped into the stable in the early hour before dawn as he was securing the saddle straps on his cybernetic horse.

"Sir?" she asked.

He waited.

She edged a few steps closer but made no move to open her bodice or try to suggestively run her fingers through her hair, at least. "Are you going to meet the viscount as he said?"

D nodded.

"Please don't kill him," Molly begged. "He's really quite nice."

The hunter took the reins in his hand and swung himself gracefully into the saddle. The girl kept looking at him. "Think about it, please."

He said nothing. At the pressure of his booted heels against its flanks the horse sprang into motion. Soon, the vampire hunter was a rapidly disappearing speck of blackness on the road leading out of the village.

Molly sighed and headed back towards the tap room.

* * * *

The hunter reined in his horse atop the hill crest. He dipped into his cloak and took out the map that the Noble had left for him and studied it momentarily. Below him, the river rushed along, snaking its way through rapids and gorges. The road followed its general direction, winding around nature's obstacles, towards a valley where the river spread out to become wide and shallow before meeting with a cousin coming down from another part of the mountains. Several villages were marked on the map, situated in a semi-circle around what would be Castle Millefleur. The road wound its way through the villages before passing the castle. On the map it was marked as a wide road but in reality it had shown less signs of regular traffic the closer to the valley he rode.

The valley was breathtakingly beautiful in the late afternoon sun, the river a silver ribbon that curled and wound between fields and meadows. A skylark frolicked in the air, its musical trills lending a carefree mood to the scene in an attempt to smooth out the sombreness of the gallows next to the road and the reek of decaying flesh that wafted from the corpse dangling at the end of the rope.

The hunter studied it. A man's body, neck broken by the fall before he could suffocate from the strangulation. It was too far gone in decomposition to have much left in terms of features but to judge from its form and clothing, it had once been a farmer or cattle herder in his middle age. A sign hung around its neck, a rough plank of wood upon which were scrawled in charcoal, "LIAR".

"Cute," the hunter's left hand observed. "D, you really know how to pick a scenic location. Could we possibly be not downwind from that thing?"

The horse moved forward in a relaxed trot, the kind that ate miles, bringing its rider down towards the valley, towards the first village marked on the map.

"You realise we could just go the other way, right? It's not like anyone has actually offered you real money for this gig yet. And that vampire viscount? I don't like it."

The hunter ignored the complaints of the small wrinkled face in his left palm. "Glamour," he offered by means of explanation.

"Don't be an idiot," the symbiont retorted. "We've both seen enough Noble glamour to know it for what it is and I'm telling you, that girl wasn't under some vampire spell and neither was that innkeeper woman. Are you even paying attention, D? Those people weren't scared of their local Noble, they were scared you'd run that big knife of yours through him."

The hunter nodded.

"And that doesn't strike you as a little odd? How many benevolent, well loved Nobles have you happened across lately? Pillar of the community, gives to charity, goes to church on Sundays, probably runs an orphanage too? It's a trap, duh."

The road turned, allowing a clearer view of the village that was coming into view as the great, cybernetic horse trotted ahead at a steady pace that was nonetheless faster than that of its unmodified counterparts. "Well, that looks like crap," D's hand said.

It did. It really did. The houses were worn down hovels that seemed to be standing mostly because they had not gotten around to the effort of collapsing yet. There were fences to keep out various – things – from the wilderness but most were merely barbed wire, not even electrical. In some places, even the barbed wire was gone. The fields were well tended but the tidiness stopped at the village edge, took one look around, and left for better living elsewhere.

The hunter halted the horse, remaining shielded from view by the trees that offered shade on the road. His gaze roamed the village exterior, scanning for life. There was not much that could qualify as such, and what little there was looked, well, like crap. A few thin cows, a woman fetching water from the village well, wearing a ragged shift and trailed by two children with big eyes and too thin limbs. A small graveyard lay on the outskirts of the village, as dilapidated as the rest, but with entirely too many fresh graves.

"Plague?" the symbiont speculated. "Hey, bucko, get me down to the ground and let me have a taste."

The hunter dismounted and knelt down to place his left palm against the soil at the side of the road. Little crunching, no, munching sounds ensued, interspersed with muffled observations. "This is some good clay, oh yeah, nothing wrong with the dirt around here, this isn't some mutant plague or sickness, D, top soil's perfectly healthy, pristine even, hang on." The wrinkly little face in the hunter's left palm wrinkled even more as its brow furrowed. "The dirt's fine, D. It's too fine. It's virginal. Perfect."

The hunter stood and looked at the ground. Various dandelions, bindweeds, and other wild flowers failed utterly to react to his inspection. He prodded a tuft of grass with one boot, noticing others like it forming vaguely linear patterns across the soil. "This land was tilled once."

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying, D. Not like you're gonna find somewhere that's flat that's never ever been ploughed or burned or whatever people like to do to good, solid farmland. It's not natural, my pretty boy." The symbiont's tongue lashed out as if it was tasting the air. "Wouldn't mind another bite, though, could you put me back down? It's delicious."

* * * *

Moonlight draped itself in silvery, shimmering tendrils around the dark figure approaching on the dark horse. This was the kind of scenery that could make an artist rip his own eyeballs out in order never to again see anything that might dilute that perfect vision from his inner eye. The vampire lord sitting atop his own chestnut horse under an ancient oak tree admired the view before coaxing the mare into a trot towards the other rider.

He let the horse fall into an easy gait alongside. "I assume you took the time to study the village?"

The hunter gave an almost imperceptible nod.

The Noble chuckled. "All right, then. Let's dispense with the pleasantries and cut to the chase, shall we? My name is Aldan Thorne and I am the viscount of that pleasant valley you left behind this morning. You may address me as Aldan, I am not really a stickler for formalities and besides, we're family of a sorts."

The hunter's head turned just a bit, enough that the Noble had no doubt that he was being glowered at. He chuckled again, a soft, musical sound. "Don't give me that look, hunter. What do I call you? Just D? There are quite a few stories about you, some of which offer some interesting theories about your parentage, but I'd rather not leap to conclusions."

"D."

"D it is," Aldan replied goodnaturedly. "I'm positive you're absolutely bursting with curiosity about me and my agenda, of course. Please don't hesitate to make inquiries or by any other means break that ridiculous silent treatment you've got going. Or if you prefer, do keep quiet and I'll do the talking. I'm quite good at that as it happens to be, you'd be surprised to discover how long I can keep prattling without having anything in particular to prattle about. Would you like to find out?"

"No." And then, after a moment, "What do you want?"

"I want several things. I want rid of an inconvenient neighbour, obviously. But most of all I want you." The vampire flashed the hunter a grin that, while containing sharp fangs, was disarming in nature. "Not in that way, obviously. You're very pretty but my fancies don't swing that way. I want your mind. I want to know how you think. Oh, and I also want to save a girl from an evil, murderous, blood sucking, rapist villain, something that I'm sure is all up your alley. We'll want to turn off the road here, by the way."

The dhampir hunter reined in his black horse to follow the other rider off the road that was becoming little more than a mud track. The vampire directed his chestnut horse into the forest, leaving the more or less imaginary safety of the illuminating moonlight. Many brave men would hesitate to ride through the wild forest at night, never knowing what would lie in wait; a Noble had less reason to fear the dark, being one of those things and on top of the food chain as well.

* * * *

The moon was nearing the end of its nightly journey across the heavens when the two men and their mounts reached the edge of the forest and paused to look down on neatly tilled meadows and fields bathed in the silvery mist of night.

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" Aldan's voice was soft with appreciation as he looked down on the bountiful, fertile land. "Everything here is so very beautiful except the villages. They pay such a high price."

The dhampir raised one eyebrow. His face shadowed by his wide-brimmed hat there was no way that even the excellent night vision of a pure blooded vampire could see that small gesture but Aldan guessed it. He looked back over his shoulder at his companion. "Count Landon enjoys beauty. In fact he is quite obsessed with it in all its forms. Everything you see here is his creation. He has other quirks of course. He rather despises deception, one might even say he is a little, ah, obsessive about the truth. Anyhow, we shall reach the castle tomorrow night – for now we'll have to seek shelter from the sun in a cave nearby." He paused. "Well, I shall. I suppose you don't need to."

The hunter shrugged his indifference but when the viscount spurred his horse back into the woods he caused his own to follow.

The cave was concealed from view by hanging vines and shrubs. In a time long past it had seen use as a shepherd's shelter, evident in various bits of tools and old crockery still lying scattered around a small fireplace situated under a small opening in the rock that would let out the smoke without rendering the air inside difficult to had been so long ago, though, that even the wool of an abandoned blanket had turned into moldy dust.

"No one alive today knows about this place but you and me," Aldan said as they lead their horses inside and reinstated the greenery to conceal the entrance. "If you kill me in my sleep, well, then you'll be the only one."

The dhampir rummaged in his saddlebag, ignoring the Noble's observation, before taking a long draught off a leather-encased bottle and putting it back inside.

Aldan looked around, crimson gaze sweeping the cave with perfect night vision. "It's hardly first class accomodation but it will do. The dirt is looser in the back if you need to bury yourself. Do you bury yourself?"

The hunter scowled at him and he shrugged. "I really know very little about dhampirs, D. You're the first one I've really spoken with. Or to, I should say, given that I seem to be the one doing the talking. I know you can endure the sunlight and that you can subsist on human food, at least for a while, and that is pretty much all I know about you. I know the legends, obviously, dhampirs being born destined to slay vampires and all that but from what I have been told, most spend a relatively short lifetime fawning and sucking up to the true Nobles. Except you."

The Noble pulled the saddle off his horse and saw to its legs and hooves before releasing it to graze or rest as it pleased. He pulled a blanket out of the saddlebag and proceeded to make himself comfortable, breaking the seal on a glowstick and setting it on the ground on the derelect fireplace. The blue glow spread around them, providing far too little light for human comfort and a bit of warmth. He stretched out on the blanket and rested his head against the saddle. "Not a word, eh?"

"I have nothing I need to say." The hunter copied the viscount's movements in making himself a bedplace, sitting cross-legged, face towards the cave mouth.

"You're not even the slightest curious about me? Shouldn't you at least be mocking my overconfidence?"

"I did not ask you to come," D replied.

Aldan yawned, displaying his sharp teeth. "Suit yourself, then. The sun is coming up and I intend to sleep soundly and safely in the comforting knowledge that I am watched and watched over by a living legend. Undead legend. Whatever you prefer."

When at last the sun broke through the layer of mist the vampire was immobile and for all intents and purposes appeared to be dead. He lay unbreathing, head rested against his saddle, the blanket pulled up to about his waist and looked quite peaceful, resembling far more a marble effigy than a murderous predator, however beautiful.

"That is one messed up fangboy," the hunter's hand commented. "Has he got a deathwish or something?"

D nodded. "Something."

"I guess you're not going to do the smart thing and stake sleeping beauty while he's out cold, then? Drag him outside to catch a few rays of sunshine, maybe cut his head off and kick it around a bit?"

The dhampir removed his hat and laid it carefully on the saddlehorn before sliding down to rest against the saddle. "Not yet."

* * * *


	2. Chapter 2

Night claimed the valley in a misty fog that was not quite rain but definitely not dry either. Moisture formed silvery drops at the end of branches and the occasional splish-splash of falling wetness interrupted the silence. The hunter was standing at the cave mouth, arms folded across his chest, looking out into the rapidly darkening sky outside when the vampire's eyes slid open, two crimson dots in the fading blue light of the glow stick.

He stood and stretched, cat-like, before walking up to the dhampir. "Good thing we're not far off the castle, I'd hate to be caught outside in that."

The hunter nodded. Half vampire himself he shared that species' strong distaste for rain.

Aldan yawned. "Did you sleep at all?"

He received no reply. The dhampir picked up his saddle and walked out through the greenery to find his horse. The Noble shook his auburn mane, then went to put the glow stick out and do the same.

Both horses, cybernetic and not so, were grazing between the trees outside. One was programmed to obey its master's commands without hesitation, the other well trained, and catching them proved no challenge. Mounting, Aldan kicked his chestnut mare into a trot while gesturing at the forest. "We'll take a short cut through that ravine to the back of the castle. It's guarded, no doubt, but I'd rather deal with the guards than be caught by that." He indicated the dark, starless sky overhead.

The hunter nodded. "What kind of guards?"

Aldan glanced at back over his shoulder at him. "Nothing you can't handle, unfortunately." He kicked his mare into a gallop.

"What a time to decide to clam up on us," the symbiont muttered.

The ravine took the riders down into dense woodland again, the sheltered fields of the villages forming a semi-circle around one side of the castle hill out of sight as they approached from the other side. It narrowed considerably as they drew nearer, allowing either man little possibility to see far in any direction regardless of how perfect his night vision. It was the perfect site for an ambush.

Aldan halted his horse near a large boulder and waited for the vampire hunter to catch up. The hunter's black horse was faster by far than the vampire's unaltered chestnut but its rider clearly had no desire to keep close company.

"This boulder marks the entry to the castle proper," the Noble explained. "There used to be a sign posted here but somebody got rid of it. Count Landon will know we're coming as soon as we continue. Are you ready for, ah, surprises, hunter?"

D nodded. He made no move to draw his great sword; not all guards employed – and indeed, designed by – Nobles were of a nature that yielded to steel. Then he spurred his horse into motion, heading past the boundary boulder at a slow canter.

Nothing happened. The ravine continued and turned, eventually allowing a view of the great, black castle that was the residence of the region's ruling Noble. Like most other castles designed by Nobles it was tall, ominous, and yet oddly graceful in silhouette against the darkened sky. Otherworldly, designed to accommodate its residents in perfect luxury whilst inspiring terror and awe in those unfortunate mortals who lived their brief slave lives in its shadow. An occasional light flickered high above, offering evidence that the structure was inhabited. A bridge, arching high and supported by stone columns, wide enough for a single carriage, lead across a chasm towards what would be the 'back door', a sealed off courtyard that would serve both as a servants' entrance and an escape route.

"And so the fun begins," Aldan mused. "I'll go first."

The chestnut mare took its first tentative steps out on the bridge, clearly not comfortable with the sudden change in texture under its hooves. Its rider patted its neck comfortingly and it skittered ahead until all four legs were on the stonework. With nostrils flaring it suddenly reared up and punched at the air with both front legs before jumping backwards, wild eyed. Aldan managed to stay in the saddle in a display of excellent horsemanship and turned her around in circles. It took several minutes before the chestnut stopped trying to buck and bolt and it was drenched in sweat when it finally came to a halt.

"I think we'll have to walk," the vampire said apologetically. He dismounted and stroked the horse's flank. "Easy, girl."

The hunter dismounted as well, leaving his horse to stand where it stood, obedient and unthinking. He stepped onto the bridge without pausing to see if the other man followed.

The keening began the instant the soles of the dhampir's boots made contact with the ancient masonry. It was a high pitched wailing as of a thousand wolves gathered to sing to the moon and finding themselves under attack by rabid sirens, an insane shriek of hundreds and hundreds of voices crying out in fear and rage. It was more than enough to drive a horse's mind to terror.

The hunter looked back. One step back of him Aldan began to speak but his melodic voice was drowned out by the onslaught of shrieks and howls. The vampire shrugged and pointed across the bridge. The hunter nodded and began to walk.

As they neared the middle of the stone arch the shrieking became more intense, almost unbearable. Gusts of wind came howling up from the chasm below carrying sprays of white mist that coiled and wafted and solidified into ghostly images of shrieking, screaming people, then were torn apart and twisting into new nightmarish apparitions. Without form or substance they were clearly unable to touch or indeed hurt either man but even so, the hunter's long sable hair whipped about in the onslaught of winds and ghosts and he had to support himself on the stone railing to make progress. Behind him, partly sheltered by the dhampir's body, the Noble struggled similarly, eyes narrowed into red dots of anger and effort. Any elegance and grace either man possessed dissipated under the attack, leaving them hard at work, teeth clenched, edging across the bridge one step at a time.

And then, the instant that the hunter set foot on solid ground on the other side, it stopped. The keening did not fade away or dissipate; it simply ended as if someone had flicked a switch. The hunter was unbalanced for less than a breath's time as the winds beating against him vanished. The Noble behind him walked straight into his back with a somewhat undignified thud, almost pushing D into the great door that marked the entrance to the castle.

"Sorry about that," Aldan murmured, stepping to the side and smoothing his auburn hair with one hand. "They don't actually do anything but it's still a pain to cross that chasm."

"What were they?"

The vampire looked around before adjusting his coat and neck tie. "Ghosts. Humans who died here. They get a little pissed off at the sight of Nobles. Half-breeds too, it seems. Landon likes to spring them on uninvited gentry." He stepped up to the double door and knocked with a pale, firm hand. The sound echoed, disappearing inside before the double doors swung slowly open, allowing the light of chandeliers to spill out into the night and cast a ghostly halo around the figure that answered the call.

She was unquestionably female and she was unquestionably Nobility. Her skin was luminescent and pale and her old-fashioned, sweeping dress trailed far behind her, rendering an air of a timelessness. Her features were difficult to make out with the light streaming past her, but her shape was comely and the crimson of her eyes and lips escaped neither man. She carried a candlestick in one dainty hand, setting it aside on a small table as she smiled. "Uncle Aldan!"

The vampire shot the hunter a look as the woman embraced him quickly. "It's so good to see you again, uncle. Father is so cross with you, I thought I might never see you again." Her voice was a musical soprano, the kind that could make mortal musicians weep.

"It's good to see you again too, Liesl," the auburn haired Noble replied with a touch of gentleness in his tone. "You'll want to meet my companion. He is really quite extraordinary."

The girl dislodged herself from her kinsman and stepped up to take a curious look up under the dhampir hunter's hat. She clapped her hands in delight. "Ooh, he is beautiful! Father will be so happy!" She paused. "Is he... you know?"

The viscount laughed softly. "Oh yes. He is quite tame, I assure you, my darling girl. His will sits solidly in my pocket. Couldn't swat a fly without my express permission. Are you going to invite us inside, dear? That storm looks like it's about to break and you know how much I hate getting wet."

Liesl giggled and turned her back on the hunter to lead the way in through the doors. Her posture revealed no fear or concern about a possibility that the taciturn dhampir might not be a friendly visitor; she was oblivious to the warning look that Aldan shot across to D behind her back as he stepped up to follow her inside.

The hallway was splendid. Literally hundreds of old fashioned chandeliers offered a dancing illumination reflected in floors and walls covered in black marble polished to a sheen and occasionally veined in shades of darkest emerald. Side tables and the occasional armchair stood along the walls, lion feet and handles crafted in gold, mahogany wood showing a rich patina that only age and tender care could coax forth. The ceiling arched high overhead, decorated with delicate paintings of forest sceneries that one would have to get on a ladder and spend quite some time studying to get familiar with, so intricate was the detail work.

The maiden Liesl herself, now fully visible in the light, was no less a work of art than the castle she inhabited. Long russet locks spilled from her head, draping themselves like a veil down her back and trailing after her on the floor as she walked with light steps, careful not to tread on the many folds of her pale gown, also made from the finest pale yellow damask and covered in intricate pearl embroideries. Her figure, lovingly embraced by the fabric of her gown, was perfect; her luminescent, pale features were those of a china doll painted by a master. She was the kind of girl who could step into a room and render every male occupant – and probably a number of the female occupants as well – speechless and indeed, breathless.

"Have you ever seen anything so perfect?" Aldan murmured.

The hunter offered no response but his gaze pierced the Noble's pale features speculatively.

"I heard that," Liesl beamed, her face radiant with joy. "You always say the sweetest things to me, Uncle Aldan. Sometimes I think you're just being coy."

The viscount's expression flickered before lighting up in a smile. "Of course, dear. You know me too well. Do tell, my darling girl, is the Count still furious with me?"

She giggled. "He is quite cross, Uncle, but he'll forgive you when he sees your present."

The viscount tapped his riding crop against his palm. "Well, we better make sure of that, then. Perhaps some of the servants might clean him up a bit? I rather think his attire is perfect for him as it is, a little on the dark and mysterious side, maybe, but a bath wouldn't hurt, perhaps a coloured sash to offset those pretty eyes, I'm sure you can think of something suitable."

The girl clapped her small, perfect hands. "Ooh, yes! Let me dress him up for you, Uncle. I'll make him so adorable that Father simply must forgive you." She picked a small golden bell off a side table and produced a soft, tinkling music that echoed through the hallway.

Two servants appeared, literally. They materialised out of nowhere, shadow taking on solidity. Both were in the form of beautiful young men the colour of darkness, wearing only thin, shadowy gauze robes that did nothing to conceal their well muscled forms. Both bowed deeply to Liesl, a faint glow of blue where their eyes should be the only thing about them that was not dark as night. She clapped her hands again. "Take the dhampir upstairs and give him a bath. I'll pick out something nice for him to wear. Oh, and no touchy touchy."

The shadowy servants bowed and beckoned the vampire hunter to follow them.

"Go on," Aldan said amicably. "I'm sure you don't want to miss out on an opportunity to bathe and be fawned over, old boy. You might even relax a bit."

The hunter shot him a look of pure malice before following the servants out.

* * * *

The water of the black marble basin was cool and clean and scented with something that was sweet but not too sweet, lavender being a primary ingredient. There was a slight current, provided by an engine both unseen and unheard, massaging the hunter's skin and muscle in a way that was both pleasant and sensual. The pitterpatter of the rain that finally had begun to fall outside mixed companionably with the crystalline tinkling of a wind chime somewhere. The shadow servants, no doubt creations of the castle's master, had disappeared out of sight leaving the hunter to undress and step into the pool alone. Grooming utensils, each a beautiful antique, had appeared on a table and unseen hands had lit a dozen of tall candles to provide a soothing, flicking light that would be too little to comfort human vision. The hunter let out a small sigh of pleasure as he dipped his head under and surfaced, washing out his long sable locks.

"D?" his left hand rasped into a snaggle. "What is going on here?"

"I'm not sure," the hunter admitted.

"Viscount Fancypants is sucking up to his peers, that much is obvious," the symbiont thought aloud, absent-mindedly consuming whatever particles of dirt remained in the dhampir's hair. "I'd say we're in trouble except that I'm not feeling jack all when it comes to magic, he's not put any kind of glamour on you no matter what he told that pretty chick. Speaking of which, I'd totally hit that before he does."

"Focus," the hunter chided.

"Focus my non-existent backside," the parasite muttered. "Riding crop boy's got a fang-on for that girl and he wants you to get daddy out of the picture. She's not a dhampir, D. She's pureblood for sure."

"I know."

"So now we're playing matchmaker to a couple of lovesick bloodsuckers? Did I forget to mention you've still not been offered any real money for this job? Easy on the shampoo, by the way. Now what?"

The hunter poured water into his hair, washing it out and rendering his companion momentarily silent. "Now we wait and see."

A door opened to admit the beautiful Liesl followed by her two shadowy servants. All three were carrying what could best be described as piles of clothes in various colours, mostly shades of blue and green. The vampiress swept into the room seemingly oblivious to the fact that the dhampir was quite indecent in the pool. "I bet you feel much better now," she beamed. "Now, what shall we have you wear... Uncle Aldan likes your outfit as it is but it's really so dark. Black is so last century, we'll simply have to break it up. Do you like scarlet?"

The hunter kept his left hand under the water. Even so, a few bubbles hinted that the symbiont was half-choking, not on liquid but on laughter. With his right hand he reached for a towel to wrap around his waist in an attempt to restore his dignity.

"Oh, don't be silly," Liesl giggled. "You're hardly the first naked man I've seen, and you all look funny dangling like that. Just step up and dry yourself off. You're absolutely gorgeous but I'm not going to do something silly and risk breaking Uncle's spell. I bet you're pretty scary with that sword. I'm beautiful, my sweet dhampir, not stupid, and I don't think I want to get you excited."

The hunter acknowledged her statement with a slight nod as he rose, turning his back to her, shook the water from his body, and dressed, pointedly choosing his own black clothing and body armour without considering any of the luxurious garments she had brought.

She tilted her head and pouted slightly. "Not even the scarf? Aquamarine would go so very well with your eyes. I guess you're pretty attached to that whole dark avenger look. At least you smell nice now. Would you like me to comb your hair?"

"No thank you."

The girl made a childish face. "You could at least be a little cooperative. I don't get new toys often. Oh well. We'd better go see Father, then." She stood and began walking through the door that her two shadow servants opened. The hunter strapped his sword to his back and picked up his hat before following her.

An architect would have gotten lost in the maze of hallways, staircases and corridors that were the insides of Castle Millefleur. He would have done so gleefully, though, for like any structure built by the Nobles in ancient times, the castle was a monument to a race that thought it had eternity to find perfection and no reason to rush the details, a bubble of timeless grace separate from a world outside that was rapidly changing.

The grand hall lay at the very core of the castle and as one might expect it was the very culmination of nocturnal, timeless elegance. Tall, black marble columns soared from the polished floors, arching high overhead in the shape of ancient trees, supporting a high-domed ceiling painted with great care to resemble a night sky studded with constellations of another era. Velvet drapes in subtle, dark shades of emerald fell from the tall, gothic windows like the shadowy formations of branches and foliage of a pristine forest. At the very centre of the grand hall, a tinkling, bubbling fountain provided the music for a small dais upon which several armchairs with emerald upholstery pretended to be part of the sylvan backdrop. Even the dhampir hunter had to pause and glance around and the very fact that he who had visited so many Noble built castles in times past had to look twice – that alone said it all.

Two men sat on the dais. One was the by now familiar form of Aldan Thorne, sprawled lazily in his chair and playing with his riding crop, tapping it against one boot. He apparently had accepted a change of costume, now sporting a neatly tailored ash grey frock coat and frilly neck tie in pale eggshell blue. He looked dashing, the way that any Noble looked dashing, effortlessly.

The other man present was another story altogether. He was a Noble, that was without question. The pale, luminescent skin, the crimson gaze, the beautiful chiselled features testified to his heritage. His auburn hair was pulled back into a long braid down his back, trailing on the floor as he sat. His clothing was an elaborate kimono-like affair in shades of blue and dark green, complete with an embroidered peacock displaying his astounding tail feathers, shimmering and forever trying to decide whether to reflect the light in shades in blue, purple, or green. His features owned the youth of immortality – and shared the delicate build of Aldan's attractive visage – but something in his expression and hard jaw line spoke of ages gone by, forever failing to touch him. He sat upright, rigidly, an icon of perfect composure.

Liesl walked up to the dais, pearl studded slippers making soft sounds on the steps. "He is lovely, Father," she said by means of introduction. "You'll adore him."

The marble effigy that was Landon Thorne turned slowly in his seat, taking in the appearance of the dhampir hunter who stood silently below the dais. He stood, causing a shimmer of purple and green to fall from his clothing like so many stray tendrils of moonlight. "So that is the hunter. He is different from what I expected." He glanced at the other man. "You've let him keep his weapon?"

"He wouldn't let me change his clothes either," Liesl murmured.

Aldan flashed a brilliant smile. "He is completely under my spell, brother. Couldn't knock a house fly off course without having to ask me for permission first. Besides, without his proper gear he would just be a pretty man in black and we've certainly seen enough of those. With his possessions intact, he is a legend."

The count stroked his chin and then nodded. "Approach, dhampir."

The hunter remained standing.

A frown darkened Landon's face but Aldan spoke first. "He is entirely mine but he will not take orders from anyone just yet. I had to be, ah, quite careful to get the magic right. He's not just any halfbreed after all." He gave the hunter a pointed look. "Come up the steps, D. You know you have to do what I say."

The hunter's left hand twitched, perhaps the only outward display of an inner struggle. Then he approached.

"Why do they call him D?" Liesl asked. "Is it short for anything?"

"You can call him anything you like, my dear," the Count said over his shoulder before resuming his scrutiny of the halfbreed. Raising a perfectly manicured fingertip he stroked the hunter's beardless cheek. "Yes. Perfect. You really are something. You've done very well, Aldan. Combined with your pets he might just be what I need."

The viscount tapped his riding crop against his palm. "I'm glad you approve. I'll keep him with me during the day hours, though. I hate to impose on your hospitality but really, I haven't enjoyed the comforts of Castle Millefleur for a while and besides, I'd be most annoyed if he was to break free somehow. I'm quite certain he'd stain the carpets."

Count Landon smirked. "With our blood, yes. You're staying until I am done, Aldan."

* * * *


	3. Chapter 3

Two young shadow servants, identical in appearance and stature to Liesl's two attendants, escorted the viscount and the hunter to an apartment high in a castle spire. Luxuriously furnished in shades of dark purple and velvety black it was a multi-room affair with several doors leading away from the master bedroom with its grand, curtained four-poster bed, armchairs, night tables, writing bureau and assorted other paraphernalia that rendered the suite opulently pleasant. The silent servants exited immediately upon arrival, not awaiting requests or instructions.

Aldan casually tossed his riding crop on a recliner and undid the elaborate knot on his neck tie, before turning around to glance at the hunter and finding the tip of a long crescent sword coming to rest against his throat. "You have some explaining to do," the hunter's soft voice stated.

Aldan made a half-hearted attempt to swat the blade aside. It stayed. "Well, yes. I believe I do. Can we at least be civilised about it? I'd wager your sword hand is positively itching but even so I feel a certain survival-motivated need to remind you that I am not the Noble you're supposed to kill."

The hunter remained a potentially very lethal statue.

The Noble sighed. "Oh, do come on, D. You're making me nervous."

The dhampir lowered the blade but did not sheathe it. The viscount sat on the recliner, rubbing his temple as if to ward off a headache. "Landon is the one, but I think you've figured that out. He is a competent sorcerer, though, and we need to deal with what he has been doing to this valley too. I really do think that walking in here as guests was preferable to fighting our way in, even if I'm sure you'd prefer that to having Liesl pick out your wardrobe a second time."

The statue balled its left fist but said nothing.

The vampire smirked. "You do realise I gave you every chance to ask all these questions yesterday? Although I suppose that I might not want to rub that in any further until you sheathe that sword. Where do you want me to begin?"

"The villages."

Aldan stretched his long legs and glanced at the large, arched window of the suite, shielded from the soon to be threat of sunlight by heavy drapes. After a moment he said, "Do you know what the term 'feudal' means?"

The hunter nodded.

The viscount explained anyway. "It is derived from the ancient term 'feodary', literally 'one who holds lands of an overlord in exchange for service'. The feodary in question here is clearly me, seeing as that I am the younger Thorne. A fiefdom comes with more responsibility than service to one's liege lord, however; one is also responsible for the fief itself. It is my duty to look after the well being of the land and of the tenants who occupy it, in other words the human villagers. Without such care the land is rendered unproductive, and without production there is no prosperity for neither tenant, feodary, or indeed, liege. Do stop me if I go too fast or start to prattle, will you?"

The dhampir sat in an armchair opposite. The long sword remained unsheathed but at least resting its point on the marble floor.

"In another time and age it was taken for granted that part of a nobleman's duties was to oversee the welfare of the region that he was responsible for, just as his liege lord would see to his needs and protection. That's how the feudal system works; you protect those below you and serve those above, an in return you're granted protection and service of your own. It's obviously preferable to be the liege and somewhat less so to be the lowest ranking tenant." He chuckled. "I'm not going to get into an argument about whether this is the best way to run a nation. I'm sure we have very different perspectives in that regard. However, it is the nature of the obligation I feel towards my land."

The hunter said nothing but his posture relaxed ever so slightly.

Aldan steepled his fingertips. "You've seen the valley for yourself. It is beautiful and fertile, more than easily capable of sustaining its small population. In fact, there isn't enough of a population left to properly cultivate the fields, and that is the core of the issue here. Landon's obsession with beauty has literally drained the lifeblood out of his tenants. He needs a new source of sustenance for the magic that keeps the land on its path to perfection. The obvious choice is to lay claim to the population of my valley and that is exactly what he intends to do." He glowered briefly. "You can imagine how I feel about that, I'm sure. We argued quite a bit about it, which is why he is 'cross' with me."

"Tell me about the magic." The hunter's melodic voice remained quiet and authoritative.

The viscount rubbed his temple again. "My brother is a skilled sorcerer. I am no novice to the arts myself, but we have somewhat differing talents. Landon has found a way besides the proverbial whip to make his tenants literally work themselves to death, to channel their very life force into the soil. He wants this valley to be the most perfect farmland on the planet but unfortunately, it's going to eventually kill every farmer who tries to make use of it. You might say that he's taken our, ah, way of life to an entirely new level, rendering the very valley itself vampiric in nature. I'd love to tell you all about how he's gone about doing this and what you'll have to do in order to break the spell but for some curious reason, my dear elder brother has chosen not to trust me with that information. Even Liesl probably knows more about how it works than I do."

"And your talent?"

Aldan threw the hunter a disarming smile. "Why, I'm more of a people person. I have a certain, ah, gift for making people like me. I can be quite... charming, if I wish to. I'm also somewhat inclined to keep secrets. In fact, the reason that we can have this conversation without anyone eavesdropping is due to a few enchantments of mine." He pointed at the riding crop. "I like to keep a token or two about me that disrupts scrying spells and the like. It wouldn't do to have my darling family realise that I was lying through my teeth when I said that your will was in my pocket."

The hunter's lips curled into a small, uncharacteristic smile. "I'll ask for permission if I want to swat a fly."

The tension level in the room plummeted. "Please do," Aldan chuckled. "You've seen what Landon does to people he thinks have been lying to him. Now, about sleeping arrangements – I somehow don't see the two of us spooning up in a friendly fashion in that bed so if you don't mind terribly I'll nap here on the recliner instead."

The dhampir nodded and sheathed the great crescent sword at last.

The viscount tapped his fingertip against his lower lip. "We should get to work as soon as day breaks, then. Meanwhile, do you require anything? Sustenance? You do not strike me as the predatory kind of halfbreed but there are excellent synthetics available and absolutely no need to abstain."

"Rest," was the monosyllabic reply.

Aldan kicked his riding boots off and put his feet up. "Well, in that case, my dark, deadly, and frustratingly laconic companion, I shall do you the no doubt much appreciated favour of being entirely quiet until sunrise. You can always do me a favour another time."

* * * *

If the great, arched windows had not been covered by heavy velvet drapes the first tentative rays of sunlight might have tiptoed into the grand bedroom at about the time the dhampir hunter's eyes opened. He had rested but a few brief hours, not bothering to remove his clothing, but drawing his hat down to cover his face from prying crimson eyes. He sat up and looked about; his Noble employer was nowhere in sight.

"Fang boy slipped out after you started to snore," the hunter's left hand observed. "That's what you get for not catching some z's yesterday. And what's the deal with refusing to eat? Do I have to remind you that we got ourselves into this mess because you needed to sleep in a proper bed for once, hmm? In fact, you should go run kimono dude through right now so we can get out already, I hate this place."

"The spell," the dhampir reminded his symbiont.

"Meh, you know the drill. Kick the top bloodsucker's face in, the whole castle comes tumbling down, that's how stuff works, and if it doesn't, well, that's just too bad."

"Can you pick up Thorne's scent?"

"Which one? There's at least three of them, you know."

"Our employer."

"Yeah, sure, no problem. You sure taking off to explore is a good idea, D? You're supposed to be all spellbound and obedient, remember? Your will in his pocket and all that crap with knocking flies off course."

The hunter winked. "I'm charmed."

The little wrinkly face rolled its eyes. "If you two start to cuddle and whisper sweet nothings to each other I'm gonna throw up."

"It's the girl I want."

"I'd cheer if I thought you meant that," the symbiont muttered. "Yeah, fine, I'll find her and I'll drop a hint if the riding crop fetishist is about to turn up. Just don't yell at me if I bite your thumb or something."

The dhampir straightened his hat on his head and tugged his cloak about him, then headed out the door, following the small tugs on his left wrist that served to direct his steps through the maze like castle. Two shadowy guardians materialised and followed at respectful distance, unheard but not unseen.

* * * *

One motif that recurred every so often in the endeavour of artists to recreate the ideals of ages long past was that of Venus, a goddess of a people so long buried in time that not a stone remained of their ancient sites of worship, rising from the sea. Depictions varied in quality and in theme, showing variations as tastes changed and the perception of the ideal female body shifted with the currents of fashion but certain constants remained. Venus was born of the foam of the ocean and she was carried to shore by the fishes of the sea or riding a giant clam shell, sometimes surrounded by dolphins, sometimes by manifestations of the winds trying to blow her hair about to reveal the attractive curves of her form. She was beauty incarnate rising from the waters, wet hair trailing, an idea that lasted a thousand centuries.

Liesl Thorne made for a quite convincing Venus as she stood in the shallow pool, moist russet locks pooling from her head to obscure her slender frame, crystalline drops falling from her limbs as she stepped up to stand on the pool's marble edge. She inspected her own appearance with a critical gaze before sitting, still dripping and naked, on a small mahogany tripod chair and stretching one long leg out.

One of Castle Millefleur's shadow black servants materialised, this time a slender, female form of athletic yet curvaceous proportions but otherwise no different from its male appearing counterparts. It picked up a small ivory file and began a careful process to correct a tiny flaw in one of the dainty white foot's otherwise perfect mother-of-pearl toe nails.

"A robe, please," the maiden purred and shadowy hands draped a thin garment of silvery, feather light silk about her shoulders and closed it in front with a silver brooch depicting a small bird, wings spread, with tiny moonstones for eyes. "You can look now."

The tall, cloaked form of the dhampir hunter ceased to lean against the door frame and turned to face the Noble girl.

Liesl giggled. "You are a shy one, aren't you?" She smiled at him, not taken aback in the slightest by the almost imperceptible crimson glow to his gaze. "I don't think you came around to catch a glimpse of me bathing though, not when you refused to enter until I was all modest. At least you like what you see, I'd be so disappointed if you thought I was ugly. Does Uncle really let you wander around all by yourself?"

Modesty was of course relative, prone to shatter at a single breeze to pull back gauzy silk. The hunter inclined his head in a small nod.

She pursed her ruby lips in a small appreciative whistle. "He must really feel very sure about you. Uncle Aldan is usually very careful with his magic. Well, he is when he uses it, anyhow. Would you like to help me pick out a night gown?"

The dhampir's lips thinned slightly, prompting a musical laugh from the sitting girl. "You absolutely hate this! You look adorable when you make a face like that! Do stop pouting, D, I'm not going to force you to play. Would you like to talk instead?"

He nodded, closing his left hand in what seemed like a gesture of frustration.

Liesl glanced at her foot and then stretched the other leg, allowing her supernatural maid to proceed with the pedicure. "I'm very beautiful," she mused. "It takes effort, you know. Even for Nobles. Father would be cross with me if I were to be anything but perfect. You're very lucky to be so pretty. The ladies must be throwing themselves at you. Is that nice?"

"I do not enjoy it," the hunter replied in his soft tenor.

She winced, prettily. "Are you ever afraid you might hurt somebody?"

He nodded.

"I am too. Humans are so fragile, they break so easy. I never mean to but somehow they always seem to be dying or trying to run away even when I try to make things nice for them." Liesl gave a little sigh. "That's why Father made these," she gestured at the shadow maid kneeling at her feet. "They don't talk, though. They're not really alive. I don't like them very much. Sometimes I wish I could go live with Uncle Aldan. Most of his servants are human."

The hunter cast a glance over one shoulder at the door, and then said, "You are very fond of your uncle."

She smiled. "Yes. He is very sweet to me. He brings me such nice presents. He brought me you. Father loves me too much to let me go, though."

Another door wards glance. "Would you go if you could?"

Liesl stood, without concern for the maid at her feet. Her shin went through the shadow creature's arm like a finger through water causing ripples but no damage. "I don't think I would," she said at length. "The world outside our beautiful valley is so very cold and so very ugly. I told you earlier, D. I'm pretty, not dimwitted. Good morning, Father. I'm almost ready for bed."

The dhampir offered no acknowledgement to the Count appearing in the door nor to the frown that rested on his chiselled brow. Instead he turned and walked with long, confident strides down the corridor.

* * * *

The great library was everything that one would have come to expect at this point of familiarity with Castle Millefleur. It was immense, seemingly endless walls covered from marble floor to arched ceiling in leather bound books and scattered in between there were elegant armchairs, reading tables, and of course, computer interfaces crafted to resemble books and not break the antiquated atmosphere with an annoying hint of more modern technology. The Counts Thorne had obviously appreciated the written word enough to collect it for a very, very long time.

Aldan Thorne lounged in an armchair about halfway down the main isle, riding crop in his lap, his crimson gaze focused on the faintly glowing text of a book-like reading device. A decanter, about half filled with a red liquid, and a crystal glass stood on a small table next to the elegant viscount who looked up at the dhampir's approach. "Up already? I thought you'd sleep at least a few hours longer so I slipped off to read a bit. You weren't uncomfortable on your own, I hope?"

The hunter simply looked at him.

The Noble closed the reader and stood, tucking his riding crop in one boot. "I guess not. I'm impressed you didn't go and get yourself lost. The castle is quite, ah, grand. Now, seeing as that you're the one who makes a living from this kind of campaign and I am not, I suppose I should ask where you'd like to get started. Please don't suggest the solar. Also, don't ask me why any right-minded Noble would build a solar in the first place. John Thorne the Second was a bit eccentric which is the polite way to not mention that he eventually barbecued himself in an attempt to acquire a nice tan."

"Where is Liesl's mother?"

Aldan arched an auburn eyebrow at the halfbreed. "She's dead. She died when Liesl was just a little girl."

D ran one fingertip around the edge of the crystal glass thoughtfully, producing a crystalline note. "Your brother raised her alone."

The viscount's expression remained puzzled. "Well, with the help of the castle staff. He didn't remarry if that's what you mean. I don't think he's even considered that option. Besides, there really aren't a lot of Noble ladies who would meet his standards. Why do you ask?"

The hunter walked around the table causing the Noble to do a small twirl where he stood in order to keep eye contact. Then the dhampir reached out with his right hand and took the vampire's chin between thumb and index finger, pulling him close. Although he looked more than a little startled by the sudden body contact the viscount allowed his face to be carefully scrutinized by the taller man.

"I do not see it," the hunter said at length.

"It'd help if you told me what you're looking for," the Noble murmured, voice a little muffled. His crimson eyes widened considerably as the hunter raised his left hand to reveal a small, hideous face. "He's looking for the spell that's got your head up your fancy backside," a hoarse voice rasped. "Now shut your trap and let me do my job. Closer, D."

The dhampir moved his hand forward until his palm almost rested on Aldan's cheek. The Noble visibly steeled himself not to draw away when the symbiont's tongue lashed out and licked his skin in a fashion that was almost sensual. "Niice," it smirked. "You should give it a shot, D, he's kinda nice tasting."

The hunter released the vampire who quickly stepped backwards, eyes still wide. "Well?" he inquired of his parasitic companion.

The little face licked its lips noisily and winked at the cringing viscount. "Oh, he's got a bad case of glamour all right. Hey, fang boy, how's it feel to be under a vampire's spell?" It laughed uproariously at its own joke.

"I don't understand," the Noble said, determinedly ignoring the highly suggestive winks he was receiving from the parasite in the hunter's palm.

"What's not to understand? I'm the brains of this outfit and the big guy is the muscle. That too complicated for you, fancypants?"

The hunter closed his fist.

Aldan rubbed his temple, frowning. "Is that thing to be... trusted?"

"On such matters, yes."

The Noble slumped into the armchair. "No wonder I always get a headache when visiting here." He shot the hunter a pleading look. "Can you tell – what has been done to me?"

"Verbal diarrhoea," the hunter's hand suggested helpfully before once again being balled up in a fist.

"I can guess," the halfbreed replied. "It's an obscuration, designed to keep you from seeing something that is in plain view. Nobles use these enchantments to cause intended prey not to pay attention to warning signs in the wooing phase."

"I'm familiar with the spell," Aldan muttered. "I've never heard of it being used against one of us, though. This is ridiculous. It's the sort of magic that I am good at, that should make it even more difficult for someone else to do this to me. Besides, Landon despises deception, remember? I can't for the life of me see my brother pull something like that. On some human, possibly if unlikely. Not on a fellow Noble."

The hunter shrugged.

The vampire pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. "Sorry. I should take your word for it. More so since this is the first time I've heard you put more than four syllables together at once, I think. My head hurts like it's about to explode."

Perhaps out of sympathy, perhaps out of a desire to nip a complaining tirade in the bud, the hunter reached for the decanter and filled the glass, handing it to the viscount. The scent of synthetic blood wafted about, alerting both men's senses without having the powerful impact that the genuine article would have had.

Aldan emptied it like a cattle herder might down a shot of low grade whiskey. "What am I failing to see?"

"Liesl."

The vampire put the glass back on the table looking alarmed. "Is something wrong with her?"

D gave him a long look before nodding. "You love her."

"She's my niece, of course I love her. It's not like I have a large family of my own to dote on. She's like a baby sister to me. I love spoiling her and I love to listen to her chatting about this and that but I don't have any questionable designs on her if that's what you're suggesting." He paused. "Oh, that's just bloody ridiculous, D. She's not cast any spells on me, she wouldn't know how."

The hunter shrugged again.

The viscount sighed audibly. "All right, all right. Let's say for the matter of the argument that she could. You've still not told me what I'm failing to see."

The dhampir sat down in the armchair opposite his employer. "You would not believe me."

After a moment Aldan nodded. "I guess I wouldn't at that. That's the point of glamour in the first place after all. You can't convince a love struck girl that her suitor has anything but her best interests at heart. I don't suppose you can convince me otherwise, either."

"No," D said. "Not with words. Now we wait for the night."

* * * *


	4. Chapter 4

If not for the passing of time announced by the discrete chimes of cuckoo clocks cleverly engineered to represent woodland birds poking their heads out of hiding spots amidst the shelves one might never know that outside, the day star, enemy to all Nobility, travelled across the skies. The dim, pleasant light of the library was constant, unchanging, as indifferent to the reality outside as one would indeed expect. Time was simply not a matter of importance to the castle's immortal inhabitants, although it had allowed some past resident to amuse him- or herself with designing the chorus of mechanical birds at some point.

Neither man made conversation as the hours drudged past. The sable cloaked hunter simply sat, unmoving, with the patient air of someone who knew from centuries of experience that everything does indeed come to he who waits. A newcomer to the library might easily have taken him to be a statue, if a bit of an odd choice given the sylvan theme of the castle's interior designs. Nearby, the hunter's two shadowy guardians stood, equally still, not breathing, unmoving, indifferent.

The vampire lord was slightly less dormant. He sat, long legs crossed, occasionally raising a hand to rub his temple, his pleasant features marred by a frown and his ruby gaze occasionally shifted from one piece of furniture to another. Once or twice he stood and walked around the table before sitting back down. He made no attempt to draw words from the taciturn hunter but his self-targeted frustration was poorly concealed and his mind clearly hard at work. Now and then he glanced over at the hunter, shook his head ever so slightly, and resumed his brooding instead.

When at last a third night black guardian faded into existence next to the Noble he looked up with obvious relief. The figure, male in form, bowed lightly and inclined its head towards the grand library doors but did not speak. "At last," Aldan murmured and stood, dismissing the servant with a nod. He glanced at the hunter. "My dear brother wishes for me – and per extension, you – to join him. I presume that this is what we have been waiting for?"

The dhampir stood as well, black cloak rustling ever so softly. "Yes. How is your head?"

"Apart from the unpleasant sensation that there is a small but vicious imp with a hammer and chisel behind my eyebrows trying to dig his way out through my forehead I'm fine. Feel very encouraged to commiserate."

Whether the viscount actually expected an expression of sympathy or not he received none. With a wave of a pale hand he dismissed the two guardians who had kept close to the hunter ever since he had left Liesl Thorne with her father in the early morning. Then the two men left the library, the Noble leading them through a series of interconnecting galleries and into the great hall with its grandiose display of nocturnal beauty.

The Count of Millefleur reclined on the dais, as statuesque and formal as the previous night; only his clothing had changed, his current choice of kimono displaying an intricate, weaving dance of silvery herons on a backdrop of bamboo reeds in pale green shades. His beautiful daughter rested at his feet, leaning against his knee, preferring a wardrobe choice of pale cream hues that caused her pale skin to appear as luminescent as a distant moon.

"Good evening," Aldan exclaimed with a cheerful air that belied his previous expression of pain. "I trust we are all in good spirits tonight?" He sat down in the armchair opposite his brother, leaving the dhampir to stand below the dais. "We're getting started, then?"

The elder Thorne nodded curtly. "Indeed. I am confident in your abilities, Aldan, but the idea of having a hunter of such repute roaming freely on the castle grounds troubles me nonetheless. It is an unnecessary risk that must be rectified."

The viscount looked sheepish. "I didn't explicitly order him to stay in the suite," he admitted. "I've forbidden him to take any aggressive action against us or the property, though."

"It doesn't matter," Landon cut him off. "He is here and he must be put to use before he figures out a way to become a liability." He gestured at the hunter's attire and at the large blue pendant on his chest in particular. "Are any of these actual enchantments or are they simply the result of a misguided fashion sense?"

Aldan steepled his fingertips. "Some of them are. Tools of the trade, so to speak. They are of little use without the will to command them, though, and the dhampir's will is subject to mine."

"You should will him to stop scowling," Liesl giggled, russet locks dancing.

"On a guesstimate, how many men in their prime would you say he compares to in terms of vitality?"

The viscount frowned. "I am not certain that I can offer a reasonable estimate there, brother. Dhampirs are usually a fair bit more, ah, energetic than their human counterparts but it is really quite difficult to separate legend from fact in this case. I have made somewhat of a point out of not having had the opportunity to see him exercise that sword."

"Very well. I shall have to find out as I work, then." The Count raised his hand dismissively. "No, don't even ask, Aldan. I am not making this an invitation. You have no business in my laboratory."

"That's hardly sporting. Besides, you still need me to tell him what to do."

"Indeed. Tell him to do what I say."

Aldan sighed, "Right, right. Tell me, though – if it turns out that he has what your spell requires, you'll change your mind about my villagers. I really am quite dedicated to them."

The elder Thorne 's marble features twisted into a cold, annoyed mask. "We have had this discussion. We are not having it again. My word is final; get other humans if you must."

The viscount stood. Walking down the steps towards the hunter, facing away from his family, a raw expression of bleakness fluttered across his pale features for but a fragment of a breath's time. His crimson gaze locked on the dhampir for a moment He folded his arms behind his back, riding crop in one hand, and looked back up over his shoulder at his brother. "I can't let you do that, Landon. I'm sorry. I can't. I won't."

Time froze, and then thawed abruptly as the Count sprang into motion, covering the distance from dais to floor in one giant stride. His bloodless hand whipped out like a hunting cat's talons, raking across Aldan's face and knocking him to the floor. "You dare!" the Noble screamed, his sudden, explosive rage as powerful an assault on vampiric senses as the spray of ruby droplets that accompanied his brother's less than graceful tumble.

"You ungrateful cur! You twisted, worthless piece of offal!" The Count pulled his brother back up by the neck tie before clawing his face again, eyes glaring crimson with hatred. "You dare come here pretending to obey me!You bring that tainted halfbreed – " he paused in punishing his brother's face to sneer at the hunter for a second – "here to do your dirty work! You should have ordered him to attack while you could because I am not going to let you say one word now, you hear me? Not. One. Word!"

On the dais, Liesl's lips formed a little 'o'. The dark hunter watched her, his thoughts as shielded from scrutiny as always.

She stood, cream dress rustling. "Father. Father!"

Count Landon buried his fist in his brother's auburn mane, holding him up by it, and turned around. His beautiful crane kimono was covered in spatters of blood. The battered viscount was still holding on to his riding crop, his handsome face now a frayed, clawed mess.

"Don't let him go to waste," the girl said. "If you're going to kill my dear Uncle, at least let me have him. I want his life. It will be so much more satisfying."

Landon slammed his fist into Aldan's jaw once again for good measure. "You will have him when he has no mouth left to talk with." In spite of his words his tone was strangely soft as he looked at his daughter.

The hunter's great sword appeared in his hands in a blur of motion so fast that it would have escaped the eyes of humans, had any been present. He leapt onto the dais, his great cloak swirling not unlike a giant pair of bat's wings.

Liesl screamed and, with matching speed, jumped right over the nearest armchair, putting it between herself and the dhampir. The sword came whirling down, shattering the furniture and sending splinters of mahogany flying. The hunter's eyes flared crimson as his boot swept in behind the girl's knee, throwing her to the floor. The sword came down again, incredibly fast, its tip carving a white line amidst sparks in the marble as the vampiress managed to twist her head sideways and save her neck.

"No! You can't harm us!" The Count's voice was a shriek of mingled fury and disbelief as he saw his daughter scrabble backwards on her back, not unlike an injured spider, to escape the hunter's great, black blade.

Darkened steel tore through the air again, and once again Liesl managed to twist out of harm's way, her eyes wide and her beautiful face a mask of terror as she faced the silent sneer on the dhampir's pale features, the tip of his fangs raking across his lower lip, leaving thin, ruby lines. He was not a beautiful halfbreed with an oversized sword; he was whirling, craving death.

"The spell! You can't harm us!" the Count shrieked again. He flung his younger brother aside like a broken toy, leaping onto the dais in a display of agility fuelled by desperation and belying the laws of physics. His razor sharp claws slid down the steel of the crescent sword with a loud, metallic scrape as the dhampir quickly raised it to protect himself from the enraged father's attack. Below, Aldan hit the floor, ruined face first, with a squishy thud that went largely unnoticed.

Landon Thorne and the hunter came apart and then crashed together again as the Count went for the dhampir's throat, claws first, in an attack that would surely have shredded a mortal man; thin red lines appeared on the halfbreed's handsome face, matching the glow of his eyes. Behind them, Liesl got on her feet and dove off the dais, the trail of her dress dragging the remains of the splintered chair with it and scattering them in a spray of very expensive toothpicks.

The enraged Noble had the advantage of fury and purpose but the dhampir had the sword and the skill. Whirling around he brought the blade down in a low sweep to unbalance his foe and then up in a high arc that neatly severed Landon's neck. A fountain of blood spurted as his head flew with the momentum; his body took a moment longer to realise the finality of its situation before crumpling to lie in a crimson-soaked mess of blood and crane embroidered kimono at the hunter's feet.

"No!" Liesl's scream pierced the sudden silence. "Stay away from me!"

The black cloaked hunter, face streaked with blood from scratches that were rapidly mending as well as quite a lot that was not his own, turned to look at her. He cut an imposing figure, shrouded in darkness and death, and while his expression was calm, it was anything but comforting. He stepped down from the dais slowly and purposefully.

The girl moved backwards, trying to keep the distance, and nearly stepping on Aldan in the process. He groaned in response and scrabbled in an attempt to sit up, blindly clinging to her gown with his hands and pulling himself upwards. Unbalanced by his attempt Liesl fell to one knee and squirmed frantically, trying to get her blinded uncle between herself and the threat, and failing.

"Don't hurt her," the viscount murmured between broken lips.

The hunter stepped off the dais calmly and strode to stand in front of the couple on the floor. He raised the great blade slightly, pointing the tip at the girl. "Do you still want his life?"

"Please let me go," Liesl pleaded. "Please don't hurt me, take anything you want but please let me go."

"Do you?" The dhampir's voice was void of emotion.

She curled up in Aldan's lap and buried her face in his shoulder, huddling for all to see like a small, frightened child. "Please," she begged softly. He slid an arm up protectively around her, unable to see but aware in which direction danger lay. "D," the viscount said softly, "Enough."

"It's never enough." The hunter's voice bore a strange finality.

The vampire's eyes, ripped to shreds by his brother's claws, widened sightlessly and he froze before giving a low groan. Blood trickled from his neck where his niece's fangs had pierced the skin. "Why?" he murmured.

Liesl clung to him like a burr to a horse's tail, safe in the knowledge that in order to take her head off, the sword would have to decapacitate her uncle first and trusting the hunter to be spellbound not to do so. Literally sucking the strength out of her protector she glared daggers at the dhampir, pausing only a moment to spit, "You'll be sorry!"

The hunter was unmoved, statue still, waiting.

"I love you," Aldan breathed. His fist tightened around the riding crop that he still held on to. Then, using the momentum of his own collapse, he plunged it into her chest.

* * * *

The dark, cloaked form of the vampire hunter stood silently amidst the carnage. He prodded the dead girl with the tip of his sword, satisfying himself that she was truly dead and finding that the wood of the riding crop had indeed done its job, before sheathing the blade and wiping a sleeve across his face, cleaning away most of the blood.

"Now that's what I call a family get-together," his left hand muttered. "Better open a window or something before the stench of all that blood drives you nuts."

"I'll be fine," the hunter replied. He knelt down next to the two nearest bodies and rested a fingertip on the viscount's neck. "He's still alive."

"Bet you can fix that."

The dhampir took hold of the vampire lord's shoulder and pulled him free of the dead girl. Then he stood, carrying him in his arms effortlessly.

"Oh, come on, D," his symbiont groaned. "Fancypants isn't exactly going to be missed. Take his head off and let's be out of here already. This is no time to get all sentimental."

The hunter gave a rare chuckle. "He's the master of the castle now. The shades will not attack us until he tells them to. If he dies, though – it's anyone's guess."

The muffled reply from the hand supporting the unconscious man's knees was unintelligible but undoubtedly not a compliment of the taste of his trousers.

* * * *

The chestnut mare's nostrils flared at the smell of blood on Aldan's clothes and skin as she reached down to snuffle his face with her soft nose. Though she failed to prompt a reaction from her master in this fashion she apparently felt content that no danger was imminent and began nibbling on his auburn forelock. After a while the vampire gave a small grunt and turned his head. The mare patiently pursued and recaptured the escaping treat.

"Oh, look. Fangboy's back from the dead."

The hunter sat crosslegged, leaning against the rock face. The chasm with its bridge and howling ghosts was a stone's throw away and the stars were bright overhead. His black cyborg horse stood in perfect imitation of a statue next to him.

Aldan sat up, slowly. Some of his injuries had healed and his face had begun to bear some resemblance to human features again, but he was clearly still blind. "Is there a horse chewing on my hair?"

"Yes."

The Noble swatted at his affectionate mount who in turn gave him an indignant look and resumed grazing. "We're – outside?"

"Yes."

He sighed. "She's dead."

"Yes. I've never seen a riding crop used that way before."

"I thought I might need a weapon." The vampire slumped back down and lay on his back in the grass, blind eyes staring into the night sky as if looking for an elusive answer there; the stars remained silent. After a while he murmured, "You might as well have killed me too."

"Here come the waterworks," the symbiont muttered. "Trust a vampire to angst."

The hunter stood and walked over to his horse, dipping into the saddle bags. Producing a canteen he turned back and knelt next to the vampire, putting it in his hand. "Plasma tea. Drink. It will help you heal."

"I don't want to heal. I want to die."

"You heard him, D," the symbiont's coarse voice offered cheerfully. "If we leave now we can be back at that village at noon tomorrow. Clean sheets, proper food, let's get a move on."

The dhampir ignored it. "It's not a choice, Thorne."

Aldan grimaced. "At least tell me why you suddenly care so much about my well being." He put the canteen to his lips and took a sip, then winced – although whether it was due to the pain of broken lips or the stale, dead taste of the cold, synthetic blood plasma was impossible to tell.

The hunter sat down next to him. "This valley and the castle is yours now."

"Lucky me."

"The spell that your brother cast still remains. Your niece was the spell, given form. Without her will to command it, the magic will revert to a primal state. The valley will become even more deadly than it is now. You need to live so that you can find a way to undo the spell or take control of it. The villagers depend on you for their survival,. If you cannot break the spell you'll have to resettle them on your old land."

"Lucky them." The vampire sighed. "You're right, of course. I was just too blind to see the truth. That's why you played with her instead of killing her outright, isn't it? You wanted me to see her for what she was. It was obvious to you all along."

The hunter did not reply to the question. Instead he asked, "Can you ride?"

The Noble upended the canteen and handed it in the hunter's general direction. "No. But I can cling to the saddle if you lead the horse. I can't see and I'm weak as a kitten."

The dhampir took the canteen and put it back into the saddlebag before helping the blind vampire to his feet and into the saddle. Taking the chestnut's reins he mounted his own horse and set into a slow trot up the twisting, winding ravine. The vampire lord's jaws were clenched shut but he stayed upright as they rode.

* * * *

The first birds had begun their morning hymn to the sun when the two men reached the small cave in which they had sheltered down the first day on their journey. The hunter removed the foliage and vines from the entrance, and helped the vampire off the mare, leading him into the cool darkness inside; his pale features had resumed their customary handsome looks but for a few bruises.

As Aldan sat down next to the cold fireplace he suddenly chuckled. "The irony. Last time we were here I asked if you needed to bury yourself. Now I'm the one who ought to." He laid down and stretched out on the cold rock, seeking to soak up the strength of the earth.

"You'll be fine in a day or two."

"I can't say I feel like I will be. My body will heal and my vision return, I'm sure. My heart – may take a while longer." He listened to the sounds of the dhampir removing the tack from the horses and setting them free to graze outside before re-entering the cave. Suddenly he said, "How many times?"

The hunter paused. Then, after a moment, he said, "More often than I care to remember." He unsheathed his blade and began cleaning it with the routined, calm movements of someone who knew well the importance of keeping one's tools prim and ready for use. The rythmic noise was oddly comforting in its monotony and before long, the vampire lord drifted off to sleep.

When night fell again he awoke to find the hunter and his cybernetic steed gone.

* * * *

The taproom fell silent as the tall, dark vampire hunter entered. He walked through a sea of questioning looks to the counter where Mistress Dot gave him a suspicious look. "I require lodging and feed for my horse," he said softly.

The tavernkeeper tilted her head to get a look up under the wide-brimmed hat. "You're by yourself?"

"Yes."

Molly put her tray of glasses down on the nearest table, much to the delight of a farmer who thus got himself a batch of free drinks, and sidled up to the counter quickly. "Sir? Is he all right?"

The hunter glanced at her, and then nodded.

The girl's ample bosom heaved with relief. "Thank you!"

"Go see to the patrons, Molly." Mistress Dot waved her serving maid off before giving the hunter a stern look. "I'm guessing you want your steak not too well done, then?"

* * * *

_And with this, I conclude this little diversion. I hope you enjoyed it! I may try my luck again sometime – after all, I'm sure that D and Aldan Thorne have enough in common in spite of their apparent differences to meet again._

_Special thanks to Patricia de Lioncourt for patiently digging out factoids from the novels for me._


End file.
